Agonizing: First One-Shot
by ShhUrDead678
Summary: One-shot. Set after "The Agonizing Redemption." Sam is trying to heal from the horrors of his past, and he finds a beautiful girl at school that wants to go to the movies with him. He's excited, but will it end well? Sad!Sam, Protective,Pissed!Dean/John


**It's been a while since I've greeted this website with my presence, but lately I've been cooking up a few ideas in my brain and writing them down on paper. This is merely a one-shot, but I have more things to come in the upcoming weeks!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**XxXxXxXxX**

"Maybe you should consider a tie?"

"No, Dean, that would only make me look stupid."

"I think you'd look hot in a tie."

"Dean." His voice was short and stern.

"What?" Innocent.

"…Stop."

Dean pursed his lips, but remained silent as he ran a hand over the material of Sam's clean shirt, making sure his fingers didn't stray into uncomfortable territory for his brother as they removed any wrinkles he'd missed the first time.

Sam swatted the hand away, his voice sounding annoyed, with a thick, underlining apprehension to accompany it. "Chill out, Dean, we're just going to see a movie. It's nothing big."

Dean knew better than to believe that. It'd been a few months since Larry and Joe, and Sammy was trying to fit back into a society where rape and abuse weren't on the menu. He'd been attending school for a little over two months and yesterday had accepted one of his classmate's offer to watch _The Prince and Me_ in theaters. His brother didn't sound too interested in the movie choice, but he'd admitted to liking Becky, the pretty brunette that asked him, and Dean wasn't about to complain about baby Sammy having a crush. The kid was trying to get past this horrific period of his life, and attempting a consensual relationship was a great way to start.

"But, Sammy, this _is _big," Dean replied with a wide grin, wrapping his arm around Sam's thin shoulders. "My baby brother is finally growing up."

Sam pouted, deeming that unworthy of a reply as he turned back to face the mirror, eyes trailing over his body. He winced, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Maybe I should consider a different shirt? I don't think this one…works."

Dean scoffed, eyebrows rising in disbelief. "What? I think red looks great on you, Sammy. Not that you could look bad in anything," he snickered, playfully elbowing him in the ribs.

Sam didn't react with the amusement he'd been anticipating, instead keeping his gaze on the mirror. "That's great and all, but…m-my scars. They're the same color…"

Dean blinked, then forced the pain off his expression as he looked into the mirror, his gaze on his brother. Physically, Sam had healed in gradual stages over the months, many of the bites and scratches fading. Even so, the majority of his wounds had turned to scars, splayed irregularly across his skin. Nearly all of the wounds on his face had healed, but the same couldn't be said for his arms, neck, legs, shoulders, stomach, back, and chest. They were all tinted red, with a hint of purple, and Dean could now see why he didn't like his shirt color. They matched too well.

"Well, let's get you another," Dean said quickly as he skipped out of the small bathroom. He dodged around John, who was leaning against the doorframe watching the two, and grabbed a barely wrinkled dark blue, short-sleeve shirt out of Sam's duffle bag. It was cotton, with a nice collar Dean knew Sam would approve of.

Sam watched as Dean walked back in, shirt in hand, and he nodded. Barely glancing at his watch, he pulled the red shirt over his head, then shoved the blue one on. Thankfully, Sam had never reached a stage where he was embarrassed about the scars littering his body, or was too ashamed to take off his clothes in front of Dean or John. Dean only chuckled at Sam's swift motions, knowing his baby brother practically lived on punctuality.

"Ready?" John asked patiently, hesitantly. He didn't want to pressure Sam into going to the movies and, really, didn't want him going at all. Unlike Dean, he'd been less enthused about Sam taking the next big step, and had seemed reluctant in granting permission. He'd eventually caved, of course, but he didn't have to like it.

Sam nodded, and was the first one out of the motel room as John locked up.

"Alright," Dean exclaimed with enthusiasm, pumping his fists as they piled into the Impala. "I'm ready to meet the sexy chick my baby brother fell for." All he'd heard from Sam about her appearance was that she had brown hair, pretty freckles, and a nice smile.

Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean looked in the rearview mirror, seeing the upward curve of his lips and pink tint of his cheeks that screamed embarrassment. Dean's smile only increased. Maybe his baby brother was actually _excited _to go the movies with Becky.

"Got your phone?" John asked.

"Yes sir."

John nodded in approval, and soon they were driving up to the theater, the large building in sight.

Sam gulped, hoping to somehow delay his departure at least a little bit. There were no holes in the jeans he was currently wearing, and he instead fiddled with the small rip on his left pocket, teeth gnawing nervously at his bottom lip.

"Hey." Dean's surprisingly stern voice had Sam immediately look up. "Don't look so nervous. You're going to be great." A grin broke out onto Dean's face, and Sam huffed in amusement. "You ready?"

Sam took a deep breath and nodded.

Soon, John was parking the car, and they all trailed out and went toward the theater.

John and Dean trailed closely behind Sam as he entered the lobby. They both followed Sam's gaze as it trailed to the right, spotting a girl sitting at a bench in a corner of the spacious room. Her ankles were crossed and hands in her lap, her bangs pulled back in a black butterfly clip. She was wearing a short green dress and tall heels, and immediately stood when she met Sam's gaze. She waved, and they all met in the middle.

"Hi, Sam!" She exclaimed excitedly, but her mouth twitched downward when she noticed the two big men trailing behind him. "Um."

Sam gestured to them. "This is my brother, Dean, and my dad." He blushed, bangs falling across his eyes. "Don't worry, they're not staying."

Becky seemed to come back to life, and she immediately shook hands with the two. "Wow, it's so nice to meet your family, Sam! I see where you get your good looks from."

Sam's cheeks darkened, and he quickly turned to say his goodbyes to them. They left soon after, heading out the way they'd come.

XxXxXxXxX

John fell into the driver's seat of the Impala, waiting for Dean to join him on the other side before speaking. "She seemed pretty animated when she found out we weren't joining her and Sam."

Dean shrugged it off, unbothered. "Dad, don't be paranoid. If youwanted to join me while _I _was going on a date with a pretty girl, I'd be pissed, and so would she."

John didn't seem thoroughly convinced, but he cranked up the car, heading out of the parking lot.

XxXxXxXxX

_**Sam's POV**_

_We shared a lot of the same classes. I'd typically be in AP classes, but Dean and John wanted me to "take it slow," see what happens. After sitting in my first class a few months ago, I knew instantly I could've handled a faster academic pace. I'd been through a lot, but my mind still absorbed information so easily. _

_Though…I dropped my gaze to my desk, drowning out the boring teacher. Within myself, I recognized something was different. I didn't care as much as I used to. I put less effort into my classes. Was that a typical reaction after facing hardship? Nothing was as worthwhile anymore, as exciting as it used to be. Just…just being _alive_ sufficed for me, and I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing._

_Mr. Taylor's chalk screeched against the chalkboard, and several of the students groaned or covered their ears. He was a new teacher, I could tell. His teaching curriculum was sloppy, his lectures weren't always consistent, he didn't know how to use freaking _chalk.

_It didn't bother me too much, though. He apologized, looking embarrassed, and continued writing on the board and explaining the equation._

_Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to see Becky look at me sheepishly._

_She whispered, cupping a hand to her mouth. "Can I borrow a piece of paper?" _

_She was the girl I shared a lot of classes with. Her hair was a beautiful chocolate brown, her eyes matching perfectly._

_I nodded, ripping out one of the sheets from my notebook and discreetly handing it to her._

_She thanked me, and her smile was so genuine and beautiful I stared for much longer than I should have._

_But when I realized my lingering, I immediately looked away, flushed. There was no way a pretty girl like that would like me. I was the scarred kid, the kid people avoided._

_Soon, though, the paper was passed back to me. _

_This wasn't the first time she'd passed notes with me, and every time she did my heart soared with hope. Maybe I wasn't as grotesque as I thought? Maybe she wanted to be my friend?_

_I smiled. It'd be nice to have a friend._

_We passed notes for the rest of class. We had just discussed random, trivial things. Nothing big._

_The bell rang and class was dismissed. I was the last one to have the note, so I crumpled it up and threw it away as I passed the trash can and walked into the hall._

"_Um, hey…" Becky called after me. _

_I turned, confused. She stopped directly in front of me, and her cheeks were red. "So…uh. Sam. Do you wanna…maybe…go to the movies with me sometime?"_

_My eyes widened and all I could do was blink wildly. What did this mean? Did this mean she actually wanted to _hang out with me?

_After several seconds I realized I still hadn't responded, and I quickly stuttered out, "Y-Yeah! I'd love to."_

_Her eyes were bright with approval, and she flipped her phone out of her purse. "Let's exchange numbers."_

"_O-Okay." My brain still hadn't caught up with recent events, and I fumbled moronically as I fished for the phone in my backpack._

_We exchanged numbers, and I could vaguely hear people muttering around me._

_I tried my best to ignore it. Of course…I was the freak. I was the freak and this popular, attractive girl wanted to hang out with me. _

_My heart wouldn't stop pounding. I was nervous, but also excited, happy. All the people at this school ignored me because of my scars._

_I couldn't help but smile as I walked to my next class. Maybe now that would all change?_

XxXxXxXxX

Becky was tightly clutching onto Sam's arm, effectively dragging him to the last row of seats at the back of the theater. "Oh, I'm so glad we get to watch a movie together! And look," she said eagerly as she gestured toward the empty seats in the theater, "we're _alone."_

Sam could only smile kindly at her enthusiasm, not really aware of this side of her until now. At school, she was quieter, more soft-spoken, and he was honestly surprised to see her get so animated about this.

But Sam didn't complain, not at all, instead taking his seat in the back row beside Becky, her arms still firmly wrapped around his. It was tight, even a little possessive, but Sam merely watched as the movie title scrolled across the screen, signaling the start of the movie.

They watched in mostly silence, the occasional giggle escaping Becky's lips as she cuddled closer into Sam's warmth. Her fingers trailed up and down a thick vein on the arm she was latched on to, occasionally intentionally grazing one of his many scars. Sam didn't mind. It actually felt kinda nice. He could finally be touched in an affectionate way without it having to be sexual.

Soon the fingers were migrating up his elbow and passed his shoulder. She teased at the thin skin of his neck before grazing along his earlobe. The theater room's lighting was too dark for Sam to see her lust-filled eyes, and he wasn't sure if he should feel amused or uncomfortable with her lack of restraint.

Becky leaned forward to take the nape of Sam's neck into her mouth, teeth nibbling lightly at the soft skin.

Sam was a bit taken aback, and shifted awkwardly, hands wrapping hesitantly around her shoulders. "Um, Becky…"

"You're so beautiful," she murmured into his skin, a wet tongue swiping along his jaw. Sam shivered, and subtly leaned back, away from her touch.

Becky only leaned forward, taking his lips into her own. Sam seemed less reluctant as the kiss continued, warm and sweet, and he allowed himself to kiss back. He knew they shouldn't be moving too fast, knew he hadn't known her long enough to trust her like this, but maybe risks were something he should take more often. After all, did normal teenage boys kiss on their first date?

Sam didn't know but, if they did, then he would, too.

He placed a hand to her cheek, the skin soft under his fingers.

This was his first ever consensual kiss. It felt oddly weird and foreign. Her lips against his felt nice, and Sam couldn't help but wonder if this was supposed to be how it felt all along.

Sadly, his enjoyment was short-lived. He barely suppressed a shudder as Becky's hand grazed the waistline of his jeans, slipping under his blue shirt to play with a nipple.

She squeezed it hard, and Sam groaned, his back arching slightly. "Becky…please…" He hadn't minded the kiss, but wasn't this too much? They didn't know each other well, and this was only their first date. This wasn't how typical dates went, right?

A flash of tongue reappeared, this time along his cheek and across his lips. Becky squeezed the pink nub harder, twisting it mercilessly, and Sam's mouth again opened in a wordless plea.

Becky reacted immediately, sliding two fingers of her other hand down Sam's open mouth. Traveling mercilessly along his tongue and down his throat, they became fully coated with saliva, and he almost gagged, turning his head away before he choked.

Sam reached under his own shirt and grabbed Becky's wrist, removing her fingers from his nipple. "Becky, what are you _doing_?"

Her face suddenly looked so innocent, so confused as to why he'd question her, and he already regretted speaking in such harsh tones.

Because Sam was obviously being paranoid. The only real relationships he'd had were ones filled with rape and abuse, so those aspects were things he'd come to suspect immediately after meeting someone he was interested in. When you dated someone, you were _supposed _to be intimate with them, and Sam wasn't even giving Becky a chance.

Sam slowly released his grip from Becky's wrist, softly kissing her palm. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be difficult. I, I just…I'm not really prepared for this kind of thing."

Becky smiled wryly, putting one finger under his chin. "Don't worry, baby, I can do all the work." She placed a soft kiss to his lips. "You just sit back and enjoy."

"Um…" Sam blinked. "Okay…" He didn't understand, but he wanted to give Becky another chance.

She reached behind herself and Sam heard a discrete unzipping sound. Sam's cheeks flamed red, something he was sure was obvious even in the dark.

She was starting to remove the straps from her shoulders, and Sam quickly intervened, placing her hands on hers.

"No, Becky, we…we don't have to do that." It just didn't feel right. She wasn't treating her body with respect.

She ignored him, though, and she forced her dress down to her waist. Her bra was bright pink and polka-dotted. Her breasts were hardly covered by the bra, and her cleavage was immense.

Sam looked away, his cheeks so red they felt like they were on fire. This was a temptation he would not allow himself to give in to. This wasn't what he wanted, and this wasn't what Becky deserved.

"Sam_," _she huffed, frustrated and angry. She slapped the cheek he had facing her, and he was surprised when it legitimately stung. She was stronger than she appeared. "_Look."_

He shook his head. _"_No. Please stop." Sam moved the dress straps back up himself.

When he looked her in the eyes, she didn't look pleased. She looked infuriated.

Before Sam could say anything, her hand shoved itself down the front of his jeans, slipping under his boxers and grazing along pubic hair. He gasped as she firmly cupped him, and he panted, breathless and alarmed.

This situation was starting to bring back memories that had long haunted him. When there was a girl you liked, she was supposed to bring you happy thoughts, she was supposed to make you _want _to see her more often. But right now, Sam just wanted to put space between them.

Was this even _normal _on a first date?

But being "normal" was starting to grow less and less appealing to Sam. If this was normal, he didn't want it.

He grabbed her wrist, yanking on her arm. She only tightened her grip, and Sam gasped, curdling over in pain as her nails sunk in. "Fuck…" was all he could let out.

"Why are you fighting me over this?" Becky asked desperately. "Why don't you _want _this?"

She continued fondling him, and he could feel his body starting to respond.

Flashes of Larry playing with him and arousing him came into his head again, and he knew this had to stop. This situation was hitting too close to home with his past. He finally successfully fished her hand out, removing her from his pants.

Becky fought in his grasp, though, and after a moment Sam held both her hands with his own. "What the—Becky, what are you trying to do?"

She scoffed, sounding angry. "Isn't it _obvious_?"

Sam swallowed, confusion etched easily into his features. This was not turning out how he'd anticipated at all.

"But…aren't we supposed to be watching a movie?"

Becky's eyes glimmered with frustration as she leaned back slightly, huffing loudly. "_This _movie?" She asked, turning to the screen. "This movie is shit and so five weeks ago. That's why I chose it."

Ah. To ensure the theater would be empty.

The lust she felt hadn't left, and she leaned closer, running her finger up and down his chest. "Can't we just ignore the movie and have a little fun?"

Fun? Sam was not having fun at all. Sam swallowed hard. "Listen, Becky, I know what you want but I've, uh... I've never had the best…sexual experiences."

"Oh, don't worry, baby," Becky cooed, leaning forward until her breath grazed along his ear, "I'm the best."

Sam shook his head. "No, that's not what I—."

Becky's lips closed firmly around his, and he choked on the words, her tongue lashing out against his. She pulled her hands out of his loose grip, and Sam felt them once again travel down his body, one hand trailing up his inner thigh to land on his crotch. He grabbed her wrist, once again pulling it away from his body. He jerked his head away from her lips.

"Becky, I'm really not ready to move that fast yet. M-my scars…they're from a…a horrible past experience." Maybe if Sam explained it to her she'd be more forgiving?

Becky crossed her legs and leaned into her chair. Her gaze looked unimpressed and now bored. "If you don't give me what I want then I have no reason being here."

Sam blinked at that. What was she talking about? Wasn't the reason she was with him now so they could get to know each other better, enjoy each other's company?

He was starting to understand, though. He'd been slow to catch on, but now…

His chest felt like it was constricting, and suddenly he found it very difficult to breathe. His voice was barely a whisper. "That…That's why you wanted to hang out with me today?"

"Why _else _would I want to hang out with you?" She flipped her hair self-importantly. "You're a total nerd, not cool at all. Your clothes are lame and you're probably poor."

Sam flinched harshly. Why was she being so cruel? Why did everything turn out this way? In class she had been so sweet and welcoming, but now…now she was just belittling him.

"So…s-so you're not with me because you like me, or because you want to be my friend. You…" He gulped, his hair covering his features. "You're with me because…because you think I-I'm an easy fuck?"

Becky leaned forward, and Sam could feel the smirk against his ear taking form. She snuggled her cheek against Sam's. "Well?" She asked, flashing her tongue out again. "Are you?"

Sam looked away, watching for a moment as the pretty girl and handsome prince embraced on-screen, kissing in the rain. It seemed so unfair; why did movies portray relationships so perfectly, when in reality there were so many obstacles and hardships?

Something in Sam hated how ugly Becky had turned out to be. He had wanted so badly to overcome the ache leftover from Larry and Joe, how his sexual relationships with _them _were always shadowing him, mocking him with every step he made. He wanted to better himself, he wanted to be _done _with Larry, and be _done_ with Joe.

And now that Sam was with Becky, even now, he didn't want to destroy their relationship, because it was a relationship _he'd_ actually worked to progress. He had had a crush on Becky for a while, and he'd really wanted to get to know her better, befriend her in some way…go on a date with her. Like he was now.

Yet it was nothing like he'd been hoping for.

Sam's despair was growing, spreading through his body like a virus. He could feel it swelling inch by inch, until there wasn't a part of him left unmarred.

"I used to be," Sam answered softly, truthfully. When Larry had kept him tied to his bed in that disgusting motel room, he'd been one of the easiest fucks alive. "But it's different now. Becky, I'm…" Sam looked away in shame, hair falling into his eyes. Maybe explaining himself _would _make her understand why he was so reluctant. Maybe she'd apologize for her haste, decide to start over at a slower pace. "I'm a rape victim."

He spared her a glance, frightful, and watched as Becky's expression changed to utter disbelief, her mouth agape. "A _rape _victim?" She huffed. "Wow, I didn't see that one coming."

Maybe now she would understand? Sam didn't want her pity, but maybe now she could comprehend the basis of his reluctance.

A smirk appeared, and she leaned back, crossing her arms under her breasts. "When I saw the nail and bite marks I thought it was just because you got extra kinky with some chick." She scoffed then, her smirk quickly forming into a frown. "That's disappointing."

She leaned even further away from Sam, like he was an infectious disease, and flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "But seriously, rape? I thought that only happened to girls. Were you not man enough to defend yourself?"

Sam jerked his gaze away. God. He sure knew how to pick 'em. First Larry, then Joe, now Becky. He would never be in a relationship again.

But her words stung more than he would've liked to admit. Even now that still ran through his head. That had never occurred to him, but it was true. It _was_ rare for men to be rape victims. If he'd been stronger, smarter, then he could've protected himself.

This was not going how Sam had wanted it to at all. He had finally felt ready to proceed to the next step, to try and erase his mind of his…_other _relations, and this is the outcome.

Was the only thing he was good at fucking?

Sam never provided a response and she sighed, standing from her spot and grabbing the hand-held purse she'd left on the adjacent seat. "Sorry, but this isn't going to work out."

Sam could only stare, shocked into silence as he watched her retreating form exit the theater, not once looking back.

XxXxXxXxX

Dean and John were cleaning weapons at the motel room, the silent, comfortable atmosphere destroyed when Iron Maiden's "Run to the Hills" burst loudly into the room.

Dean dug a hand into his pocket, grabbing his cell and checking the screen for caller ID. Seeing Sam's name, he raised an eyebrow. It had barely been an hour since they'd dropped him off; surely the movie wasn't that short?

Concern and apprehension churned in his stomach, and he shot John a look from across the table. He flipped the phone open immediately, pressing the phone to his ear. "Sammy?"

He could hear the sound of distant cars speeding down roads, horns honking as tires squealed against asphalt. But where was his Sammy?

There was silence before Sam's quiet, broken whisper emerged from the speakers, barely heard over the loud vehicles. "D-Dean…"

The cleaning supplies in his lap were forgotten. Dean jumped to his feet, shooting John a meaningful look. The eldest was on the move, grabbing the keys as they ran out into the night, toward the Impala. "Hey, Sammy, what's going on? Are you okay?" Another moment of silence. "Talk to me, Sammy, you're scaring me here."

Dean heard a soft sniffle, and Dean's fingers tightened around his cell phone.

"Dean…" Sam said in a small voice. "Please come."

John sped out of the parking lot, hands fiercely gripping the wheel. "We are, Sammy, we are. Just stay on the phone with me, okay?" Dean licked his lips. "You're still at the movie theater right?"

"Y-yeah."

John looked over to Dean in the passenger seat, and Dean nodded. John pushed harder on the accelerator.

"Are you hurt?"

Dean could hear Sam shaking his head against the phone. "No."

"Is Becky still with you?"

A broken sob was heard on the other line, and Dean felt his panic rising.

"N-No."

"Wh-What? Why not?" Gods, if something or someone had hurt Becky his brother would be so distraught, would probably blame himself.

And Sam sounded so broken, so devastated. Dean didn't know what to do. Goddamn it, what was he supposed to _do?_

"Be-Because s-she do-doesn't l-l-like me."

So she left him there? Dean swallowed hard, swallowing his tiny sigh of relief. At least Becky wasn't hurt.

But what should he say, how should he react? Rejection was always so fucking difficult.

His baby brother had been through _enough, _damn it.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. You'll find someone else, I swear, someone better than Becky."

This time Sam scoffed loudly. "Ye-yeah fucking right."

Dean blinked in astonishment. It was rare that Sam questioned him, and for him to do it so blatantly was totally unlike him. "Sammy, of course I'm right. I'm your big brother, everything I say is right." Dean had tried to lighten the mood but realized that was a lost cause. "You deserve the best, and if Becky didn't treat you right, then you need to find someone else."

"Nobody _wants _me, Dean." Another sniffle.

Dean winced, beginning to sense a drastic change in his brother's demeanor. He wasn't quiet and secluded anymore, he was lashing out.

"That's a lie, Sammy. You're a very attractive kid, I know plenty of people would love to—."

"_Fuck _me, they would love to _fuck _me."

Dean could feel the tears building up, the pieces slowly beginning to fall into place. Becky had wanted more in their relationship. Sam resisted, so Becky left.

Dean dug himself out of his thoughts. He'd find out from Sam himself when the boy was more mentally sound.

He shook his head adamantly. "Not everyone is like that, Sam. You have to believe me on this; not _everyone _is out to have sex."

Dean could sense John tense the hell up in the driver's seat, and he probably had a clue what was going on now. Dean looked out the window, realizing they had almost reached the movie theater.

_Just a little longer, Sammy. Please hang on just a little longer._

Sam's scoff was clearly audible, sarcasm leaking through like venom. "Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious, Sam! You've just had really,_ really _bad luck. That's all. Please, _listen_ to me."

John entered the theater parking lot in a rage, and Dean spotted Sam pulling the phone from his ear, closing it shut. Dean blinked, listening to the proceeding beeping noise in shock. He hung up numbly, staring at it like it was some sort of foreign object.

_Sammy hung up on me._

Dean quickly brought his gaze back to his brother. He hadn't even realized it'd started raining, and now he saw his little brother was drenched, his clothes sticking tightly to his body and hair matted to his head. He looked so…desolate.

"This is bad, Dad."

John only nodded with gritted teeth as he drove to a halt directly in front of the youngest Winchester. Screw the parking ticket.

Dean burst out of the passenger seat, not bothering to protect the precious Impala as he slammed the door into place before running in Sam's direction.

The younger boy turned at the noise, watching as Dean approached him. His feet were frozen, and he could only turn away, his wet bangs fully engulfing his eyes.

The older man's frantic sprint brought him directly behind Sam, a strong hand gripped around his forearm. "Sam." His voice was firm, yet somehow gentle, soothing.

But Sam couldn't bring himself to face Dean, and he pulled his arm from the man's grasp.

"Sam, please." Dean's voice cracked. "I'm your brother. I only want the best for you. Please, just…"

"_Stop."_

Dean's voice cut off, and Sam could imagine the stricken, dumbfounded look on his face. "Wh-What? Sam, what's going on?"

"Nothing of your concern."

There was nothing but a long drone of the pitter-patter of rain as they both stood there. Sam suspected John was nearby, even if he couldn't hear him.  
"Look, I know break-ups are hard." Dean sounded desolate and hurt, and Sam's heart panged with guilt. "I've been there, and I know it hurts like hell."

Sam's bottom lip quivered, and he foolishly wiped at the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek. There was no doubt in his mind that Dean had noticed but, surprisingly, he didn't make a move to react. Sam could barely reign in his sigh of relief.

"I know you really liked Becky," Dean continued, "And I'm really sorry it didn't work out the way you wanted it to. But Sammy, please know this. She didn't reject you because she found you uninteresting or annoying or something stupid like that; she rejected you because she had a few mixed up priorities. She rejected you because she was a shallow bitch. There was nothing you did wrong, Sammy, she just didn't realize your worth."

Sam was silent, his back still to Dean as another tear fell from his eye. He didn't bother to wipe it away. Nobody could see his pain, and tears blended well with raindrops anyway.

Sam's voice was barely heard above the roaring rain. "I want to go home."

Dean's look of despair went unseen. Sam didn't acknowledge his words. Did that mean he disagreed? What exactly happened in that theater?

But, based on what Dean knew could happen in theaters, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He put a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "Yeah, Sammy, let's go home."

They both turned to see John already heading to the Impala, opening the back door for Sam.

Not one Winchester cared as they settled into the Impala drenching wet. John quickly drove them out of there, not once heeding the speed limit.

The car ride was silent, and Sam merely stared out the window, watching the raindrops splatter onto the window.

Dean didn't know what to do with himself. Should he say something? He wanted Sam to know he was there for him, would _always _be there for him, but maybe now wasn't the time. Maybe Sam needed the car ride for some alone time.

But maybe drowning yourself in painful memories wasn't healthy, either?

They were already arriving at the apartment thanks to John's intense driving, though. Everyone filed out, and John was the first to the door.

Sam was the first to remove his clothes. God only knew how long he'd been standing out there. He was drenched to the bone.

"Sammy, go take a hot shower. We can talk about this later."

Sam turned to Dean as his jeans went next. He stepped out of them and threw his wet clothes into one corner of the room. "I don't want to talk about this at all."

He grabbed clean boxers and disappeared into the bathroom.

Dean sighed, sitting on the farther bed from the door and putting his head in his hands.

"We couldn't have known, Dean. There was nothing we could've done."

"I know, I know. I just…" Dean wiped his hand over his face. "This just isn't fair. This isn't fair at _all. _Sam…Sammy's been through so much."

The thin mattress dipped as John took a seat beside him. "Yeah…He really has, hasn't he?" His mannerism seemed distant and far away, and Dean wondered where his father's thoughts were taking him right now.

Nowhere pleasant, Dean knew.

John jumped back to reality soon enough though, and he continued. "We have to be strong for him, Dean."

He said that because Dean was pretty sure it was obvious he was falling apart. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Sam was _supposed _to find happiness. He was long overdue for it, and it just wasn't fucking _fair._

XxXxXxX

**Sam's POV**

I leaned against the wall, feeling the water billow over me in a hot wave. It felt good. I wanted hotter, hotter to the point it burned my skin and left me red for a week, but this was okay, too.

When had everything become like this? When had _I _become like this? I was so disgusting. I was so dirty. Even Becky from school saw it.

God, was it written all over my face?

I scrubbed hard at it, nearing rubbing my face raw. This was good…pain was good.

Pain meant I was still alive.

I had to look at this from a logical perspective, though. This wasn't as bad as with Larry or Joe. Tonight was something I could walk away from unscathed. Becky wanted to fuck with me, and I…  
I wasn't ready.

That's all there was to it. She was on a different level of intimacy than I was.

I scrubbed hard at my arms. Though…there was something I would have to come to terms with. She didn't go with me tonight because she thought I was cool or because she wanted to get to know me better.

I had to look within myself and acknowledge I wasn't a likeable person. Nobody would want to be my friend.

It was alright. I didn't deserve any, anyway.

By the time I was finished washing, my entire body was tinted red. I'd scrubbed so hard I wouldn't be surprised if a layer or two of skin had come off.

I couldn't hide forever, though. I didn't feel much better, but I also knew better than to waste their hot water.

I turned the faucet, stopping the water.

Drying off and wrapping a towel around my waist, I mentally prepared myself. What were they both doing?

I had to keep in mind my family still loved me. It was harder for me to be loved by others (I'm not at all surprised), but Dean and John were the best people in the world. They accepted me, tainted or not.

A few moments of composed breathing and I opened the door. Dean and John were sitting side-by-side on the bed, and I tried to keep my face blank. Were they talking about me? Should I be worried?

"Hey," I said softly, awkwardly.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said with a sad smile. "How ya doing?"

I swallowed. "Okay, I guess."

I was in only a towel, but it didn't bother me they could see my scars. They were amazing; they didn't care. Sometimes I wanted to cry they were so amazing.

They were oddly quiet, but I merely moved to gather some boxers out of my duffel. I didn't mind being in a towel, but the possibility it'd slide off at any time was a little awkward to think about.

I turned to see my brother and father staring at me with a look akin to rage.

They were both looking at something seemingly over my shoulder. I turned around curiously, only finding a bland wall.

I still couldn't tell where their gazes landed, but soon Dean stood, walking up to me with squinted eyebrows and dark eyes.

His finger lightly grazed my neck. Dean's eyes seared, but I could tell how hard he was trying to stay calm. "That girl…Becky…" He grit his teeth hard. "That bitch left a hickey on you."

My eyes widened, and I clamped a hand over my neck, concealing it from the world. Why did everyone leave their mark on me? Was it just a way of saying, "I was here and I fucked that?"

I could feel my body quivering. How could this happen? I should have been more obstinate. I should have stopped her when I had the chance.

My lower lip trembled, and I asked, "T-This won't s-scar, right?"

I have enough scars marring and dehumanizing my body. I didn't want anymore.

Dean and John both shook their heads wildly. "No, Sammy, _no," _Dean exclaimed. "You'll be fine. It'll be gone in a few days, I promise."

I let out a sigh of relief. Good…Becky wouldn't stay on me forever.

Things calmed down after that. I felt a little better after that scar scare.

I had changed into boxers. Even after all this time, I still had trouble finding comfort in clothes and, unfortunately, the less clothing, the better.

To a certain degree, of course.

John was now sitting at the small wooden table. I laid backwards on the bed, feet resting on the pillow, and Dean sat up beside me.

Dean kept a hand on my back. He seemed to still be a little emotionally distraught, and I understood his need for physical contact. It was a reminder I was there, I was _okay. _

A finger trailed along a scar on my back. It traveled slowly back and forth, almost as if it was in a trance.

I could sense Dean and Dad's silent but overwhelming curiosity. They wanted to know what happened, how it happened.

But…there was something really bothering me, and I needed their opinion on the matter.

"D-Do you think it's weird…that I'm a guy?"

I could almost _sense _their minds going blank with confusion. The finger wandering around on my back stopped and merely laid there motionless.

"What…What, son?" John was the first to ask, and he leaned forward, closer.

My train of thought was a little convoluted, wasn't it? I was probably such a difficult person to endure. My thought process was whacked up, and I traveled back to a not entirely unrelated topic.

"Initially everything was fine. We just watched the movie and didn't do anything." The gears were grinding in their heads. It was abrupt, but this was a conversation they could follow. I shrugged. "Then she started to get more intimate. Lots of touching, lots of kissing, lots of…" I sighed, wiping my hand across my forehead. "Taking off clothes." I heard a hiss and a growl come from the others. "It just got really out of my comfort zone."

Dean swallowed discernibly, and his hand widened and sat flat on my lower back.

I continued. "Eventually she stopped. It wasn't anything like…ya know…" It wasn't anything like _rape. _

Dean nodded sadly and John looked down at his feet. Both of them understood what I was saying, so I left it at that.

"It…it wasn't fun, but it wasn't like Larry. W-With Larry…I…I was a guy."

I was talking in a circle. I was still being confusing. They still wouldn't understand.

"I've been raped a bunch…" I said that with a more composed voice than I thought I would. Huh. I was kind of impressed with myself.

The hair in my eyes completely blocked my view, and I liked it that way. "But I'm a guy."

Several long, long moments of silence passed. I think what I was saying was starting to sink in.

The warm hand left my back and lightly, so lightly, took my chin and turned me upward. The movement moved the hair out of my eyes, and I felt suddenly vulnerable.

"Sammy…" Dean had moved to sit directly in front of me. He was probably feeling pretty vulnerable too, I thought absently. His eyes looked suspiciously wet. "Sammy, are you embarrassed you were raped… because of your gender?"

Strangely, Dean putting it into words made me feel silly. "I mean…obviously it's not my biggest or most prominent worry, but…it is indeed something…" I tried to turn away, but Dean's hand was a stable, unrelenting presence. I looked into his eyes as he looked into mine. "A bit distressing."

Dean shook his head, his mouth scrunched in pain. "God, Sammy…" The hand on my chin traveled to my neck, and he leaned his forehead against mine. "I had no idea you felt that way."

"I…I honestly hadn't initially." I'd felt embarrassed and ashamed for getting raped _period. _The point I was a guy hadn't been factored in. "I guess I didn't realize how abnormal it was u-until Becky."

Dean's entire body went stiff, and part of me realized I had said too much.

"Becky…Becky…" He backed away slowly, and his voice sounded deadly. "Becky said that?"

I gulped. I very obviously had said too much. "Dean, wait…"

"What _exactly _did she say?"

I sighed. "Dean..." In reality, the more I talked about this the less it bothered me.

Why should gender have anything to do with rape? Were boys supposed to be superior to girls? Were we supposed to be so much better we couldn't get raped but girls could?

That wasn't fair. I wanted to treat them equally, with respect, and I had to look at myself the same way. I'd been shot in the fucking leg then dominated by a man triple my size. Rape could happen to anyone.

I swallowed. "I just realized how dumb I'm being." I smiled sadly, and I could feel them both staring intently at me. "Boys are just as able to get raped as girls. It…It doesn't mean we're weaker…"

This was the second time tonight I was impressed with myself. I had my own epiphany with minimal help.

"I…I think there's a reason it never occurred to me until now. It's not something that should bother me. And…and I won't let it."

I swallowed uneasily, but accepted that. No. Guy or not, I couldn't let my gender effect my viewpoint.

I think Dean saw the recognition in my eyes, the acknowledgment that my gender _didn't_ make it more embarrassing that I was raped.

He wrapped his arm snugly around me. "Good," he said with that goofy, happy grin.

His smile was contagious, and I found myself smiling alongside him.

Dad had a very content expression as well, and it looked like everything was good with the Winchesters again.

My smile only widened at that.

"Alright," Dean said in approval, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "So who's hungry?"

I snorted in amusement. That was Dean for you.

**XxXxXxXxX**

**I know I haven't updated much on this site. However, if you've enjoyed The Agonizing Shame and it's subsequent related fanfics, you will be happy to know it's not over! More on this will be coming shortly.**

**Hope you enjoyed!**


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